


FAKE DATE FOR AWKWARD FAMILY GATHERINGS

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Minor Adam/Sendak, Minor James Griffin/Ryan Kinkade, Minor Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Minor Past Shiro/Kinkade, shiro's family - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-11-12 14:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: It starts with a Craigslist ad.It probably should have ended there, too.  But Shiro has never been one to do things halfway.And no one inadvertently self-sabotages their love life like Takashi Shirogane.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a monthly exclusive fic for my followers on a website I'm PRETTY sure I'm not supposed to mention on AO3, per their TOS! If you're interested in helping my fic get exposure, the [social media post can be found here!](https://twitter.com/xyriath/status/1091808423413538824)
> 
> A HUGE thank you to [Princessponies](https://twitter.com/Princessponies8) for the accompanying art and writing the ad!
> 
> (And yes, the typos in the ad are intentional)

“This is a terrible idea.”

Lance chews on the end of his pen, looking unconcerned.  “Uh huh.”

“I’m serious!” Keith protests.  “No one’s going to want to pay for a date—not with _me._  And my _number?_ ”

“How else are they going to get in touch?” Lance smirks, reaching down to type a few more words.

“I don’t want them to get in touch at _all!_ ”

“You’re the one who's short on rent this month!”

With a flourish, before Keith could protest any further, he hits the enter key.

—

“This is a terrible idea.”

“But not the worst one I’ve ever had.   _Definitely_ not the worst you’ve had.  Better than your first one.”

Shiro makes a face at Adam; he’s never looked more like the stereotypical innocuously devious megane.  “I still don’t think it’s that bad—”

“Listen, your family loves me.  If they think we’re together—maybe even if they realize that we used to be—they’ll be planning our wedding before you can say ‘Craigslist.’”

“But a stranger _on_ Craigslist?  I’ll end up murdered.”

Adam shoots Shiro a look over the upper frames of his glasses.  “I’d pay to see the person who could overpower you.”

Shiro bites back a comment about Adam’s type—arguing about the etiquette of dating exes isn’t something Shiro wants to do right now—and reaches out to snatch the phone from Adam’s hand.

The Craigslist ad glows on the slim screen of Adam’s Samsung, and Shiro idly admires how text looks when it’s not behind a spiderweb of cracks.

> Have a dreaded upcoming family gathering and want to avoid questions about why your parents don't have grandkids yet? Attending a formal party but need a date so you don't look like a complete idiot? Need someone to interrupt your tinder date in case it goes south? Looking to:
> 
> \- Pretend to be straight?
> 
> \- Need someone to play as your ex who will dramatically end your awkward interaction with a dudebro hitting on you trying to get you to suck his dick on the first date?
> 
> \- Start a verbal/physical fight at your next family gathering?
> 
> Then look no further- I'm the man for the job.
> 
> I'm a 23 year old male, though can play ages ~20-26 and possibly as a girl if I dress up right but that costs extra. I have a small criminal record, a bike older than me painted like someone's awful rendition of Guy Fieri's shirt, and a really cool scar on my face so I am excellent at playing "bad boys" and possibly being intimidating if required. I am willing to start both verbal and physical altercations if requested so long as legal action following the fight is not enacted and pysical fights are with parties ages 16-80, though if they are particularly an asshole I may be open to shift this policy. Unless given a specific topic to discuss, I will most likely sit quietly through the event shaking/nodding my head and agreeing to whatever story you spout off about my existence and our relationship.
> 
>  
> 
> I will:
> 
> \- Pretend to be your current significant other
> 
> \- Pretend to be your former significant other
> 
> \- Pretend to be your cousin who you brought along because you had no one else to bring
> 
> \- Pretend to be your long lost best friend who you've secretly been in love with all this time but before you could confess this I was abducted by aliens and have only just returned.
> 
> \- Pretend to be a random guy with a bike from craigslist who was offering to be a fake date
> 
> \- Propose to you with great flourish and pizazz
> 
> \- Propose to you with a ringpop
> 
> \- Be the sterotype of a homosexual
> 
> \- Be the sterotype of a heterosexual
> 
> \- Stay awkwardly silent for several moments after "grandkids" are brought up, then whisper to you loudly asking if your parents know about my accident
> 
> \- Start physical and/or verbal altercations with individuals as requested
> 
>  
> 
> I do request that all actions partaken during the act of pretending to be a couple are platonic until I say otherwise, so if I will or will not kiss you will be at personal discretion upon our meeting or until after sufficient conversing has occured.
> 
>  
> 
> Rates start at $20/hour. Contact me at the below number:

 

As Shiro scrolls back up, his eyes widen, and he knows _exactly_ why Adam pitched the idea.

“ _Oh._ ”

“Yeah.”  When Shiro flicks his eyes up, Adam is smirking.  “Oh.”

Shiro whispers a prayer of thanks for the bright screen on Adam’s phone as he admires the picture attached to the ad: a man younger than Shiro by a couple of years, with handsome, angular features behind dark hair that falls into his face.  It looks soft enough for Shiro to want to run his fingers through it from only the sight of it. There’s an ethereal quality to the man that leaves Shiro breathless, only enhanced by the promised scar, and he has to wonder what this guy must look like in person.

“Keith,” he murmurs, tasting the word in his mouth.  “Keith Kogane.”

—

Keith Kogane stares morosely at his phone, the little number 47 in front of “missed calls” shining cheerfully.  He doesn’t even want to start going through the rest of the texts.

“Told you you’d be popular!  Heck, you’ve gone _viral._ ”

Keith shoots a glare at Lance, then at Lotor, who’s snickering beside him.  “Have you even _listened_ to these messages?  Or read these texts?”

Lance makes grabby motions at the phone; Keith slaps the offending device into his palm.

“Holy shit,” he breathes as she scrolls, and Keith flops back onto her couch with a groan.

“Right?  Did you get to the one with the feet?”

“Just did.   _Gross._  That’s just not sanitary!”

“If I had to see it, so do you.  Thanks, Lance.”

He grimaces, then taps the phone a few times, placing it to his ear.

“How do you know my voicemail password?”

He presses a finger to his lips, frowning slightly, then his face twists in alarm.  Keith watches it go through a range of increasingly unpleasant expressions, and he allows himself to wallow in bitter satisfaction over the next few minutes.

Until it changes, and he tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, listen to this one!”

Before he can protest, he shoves the phone to Keith's ear.  A deep, smooth voice resonates through Keith’s goddamn _bones._

“Uh, hi.  I’m… Shiro.  Takashi Shir—well, I mean, I guess you can call me Shiro.  Everyone else does. Um.” A throat clearing. “So, I saw your ad, and see, I wanna come out to my family, but they’re kind of… intense.  I’m not sure they’d believe me unless I brought a date, and the date was a guy, and if I bring a date, they’re gonna get the third degree in a way that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.  So I figure it’s only fair to pay whoever I bring. That makes the prospect seem so appealing, huh?”

A soft, shy chuckle, and Keith has to swallow a few times before he realizes how dry his mouth is.

“So, uh, if it sounds up your alley, shoot me a call or text?  I promise my family can cook a hell of a meal, and I'll pay twenty-five an hour.  Thanks.”

Keith lowers the phone, that voice still pounding on his ears.

“Yeah,” he says faintly. “Twenty-five an hour is good.”

Lance just settles back underneath Lotor's arm.

“Send us a picture of him.”

—

Shiro fidgets with his keys as he glances around the coffee shop.  He still feels like a fool, even after two days of texting Keith. Even after warning Keith about the trial awaiting them both, he hasn’t backed down or even seemed fazed.  A hundred bucks for a few hours must sound like a really good deal.

Clearly, he’s never met a family like Shiro’s.

He glances down at his phone, the text with the prearranged meeting place matching the street of the Starbucks.  Just like the past four times he’s checked. Belatedly, he realizes that he should have sent Keith a picture.

A bike rumbles up the street, and he turns to see a motorcycle that certainly fits the description of “painted like someone’s awful rendition of Guy Fieri’s shirt.”  His shoulders unknit, and he grins as he steps forward.

“Keith Kogane?” he says, and the helmeted head turns in his direction.

“Gotta tell you, clearly I should date more Japanese guys,” comes the muffled voice.  “You know how many of those messages called me ‘Ko-gain’?”

Shiro grins, extending his hand.  “My teachers did the same almost every year since kindergarten.  Takashi Shirogane.”

A pair of hands in fingerless gloves lifts up to pull off the cherrybomb red helmet, and Shiro barely has time to ogle the skin beneath them before he’s watching Keith’s hair fall into his eyes, across his angular cheeks.

It looks even softer in person.

Keith tucks the helmet under his arm and looks up at Shiro, then—freezes.

He stands still for several moments, long enough for Shiro to stop ogling and start worrying that there’s something on his forehead, or dangling from his nose…

He nearly jumps when Keith’s hand shoots out to take Shiro’s, then shakes it.  “Uh, nice to meet you. Sorry, I—hi.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”  Shiro laughs breathlessly, the knowledge that he’s not the only nervous one alleviating those nerves already.  “You can call me Shiro.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes, and it sounds like prayer on his lips.

Shiro laughs again, realizing that he’s held onto Keith’s hand for a little too long, but still reluctant to let it go.  “Anything else we need to talk about? That I should know. If I’m gonna pretend to be your boyfriend.” He nods at Shiro’s right hand, and Shiro finally lets go.  “How you lost that, maybe?”

“Uh.”  Shiro winces.  “That won’t come up.  Not with someone I’ve only been dating—two months, we said?”

Keith nods, and Shiro swallows at how vibrant those serious violet eyes are in the daylight.  “Sorry for pushing.”

“No, you didn’t!  Don’t worry.” He offers Keith a reassuring smile.  “You wanna follow me to my grandparents’?”

Keith nods, then hesitates.  “Hang on. Can I…?”

He lifts his arm, as if to put it over Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro nods.  Keith pulls him close, tilts his head against Shiro’s, and lifts his phone.  “Smile.”

Shiro nearly laughs, and Keith snaps the picture.  Only a few moments later, Shiro’s phone buzzes, and the selfie fills Shiro’s screen.

Despite telling Shiro to smile, the corners of Keith’s lips have barely lifted.  He looks strangely solemn, tentatively affectionate, a tiny hint of vulnerability in those eyes.

“Set it as your lockscreen.  It’ll help.”

Shiro isn't sure if he jumps at the suddenness of the words or the implication of them.

—

No one says anything out of the ordinary when Shiro walks in.

They smile and nod when he introduces Keith.  There are a couple of exchanged glances when he uses the word “boyfriend,” but Shiro’s grandmother seems to alleviate everyone’s concerns.

“Oh, children these days, always calling their friends ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend.’  I’ll never understand it.” A ripple of chuckles from the louder crowd—although Ryou shoots Shiro a significant look.  Of all his cousins, the two of them are closest, in both age and everything else. “It’ll give people the wrong idea, Takashi.”

Shiro swallows, mouth dry, but he’s not going to let himself be intimidated into this.

“Uh, actually, Baachan—”

But the rest of his family returns to the bustle of preparation, and Shiro can’t help but bite his tongue.  Damn. Seems he is a coward, after all.

Keith clears his throat, steps in front of Shiro, and takes his face in both hands.  Before Shiro can so much as open his mouth and ask what the matter is, Keith pulls him down and plants his lips on Shiro’s.

The kitchen immediately goes silent, but Shiro barely notices.

All he can do is watch Keith, whose eyes are closed, delicate, dark lashes ghosting against his cheeks.  He should probably close his own eyes, but every atom in him is frozen, a network of charged particles demanding to be freed but unable to move, not with the shock of having the _hell_ kissed out of him by a really, really, _really_ hot guy.

After what feels like several minutes but was probably only a few seconds, Keith pulls back with a gasp.

“Thanks for introducing me to your family, Takashi,” he says, voice deceptively casual.  “Wanna go find a seat?”

It takes a few moments for the question to process, but once it clicks, Shiro nods eagerly.  “Y-yeah! Let’s, uh… the living room is this way.”

Keith reaches down, lacing their fingers together, and pulls them in the indicated direction.

Shiro follows along, allowing himself to be led, dazed and shaky and very, very gay.

He’d thought he could keep this under control.  He’d been wrong. Because Keith Kogane, even when his partner is too stunned to do anything but act like a dead fish, is a hell of a kisser.

Shiro’s so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

And for more than one reason, too.

If there’s one thing to be said for the Shirogane family, they recover quickly.  Despite their initial gaping—and Shiro includes himself in that number—the shock of Shiro bringing a _boy_ as his date is eventually outweighed by their desire to learn all about the person that Shiro has _finally_ brought to a family dinner.

Keith fields the questions with more grace than Shiro had expected; there’s something about his awkwardness that seems to charm all of them, and regardless of what Shiro’s family throws at him, Keith’s responses never leave Shiro feeling like he should crawl under a rock and die.

Shiro can’t help but watch him, fascinated, almost the entire time.

Dinner is delicious.  So is dessert.  And then the evening ends, much to the pangs in Shiro’s chest.

“Be sure to kiss him goodnight!” Shiro’s mother calls after them, and Shiro can only hunch his shoulders and wince.

(There is, however, one small mercy in the world: when Baachan replies, “It’s Takashi.  They won’t be saying goodnight,” she does so in Japanese.)

Shiro groans, covering his face as they leave the house.

“I’m paying you extra,” he promises once they’ve reached Shiro’s car.  “I am so sorry.”

Keith chuckles softly as he buckles in, and it Does Things to Shiro.  “What?  No, don’t worry about it.  They weren’t nearly as bad as you had me worried about.  Honestly, seeing everyone all busy and having fun with each other… it was kind of nice.”

Shiro glances over to see that Keith is smiling faintly, and he recalls his answer when Shiro’s uncle had asked about Keith’s family: Keith had only murmured that his parents were gone before the conversation moved quickly onward.

Shiro is glad that Keith got to spend the holiday with someone, at least.

“Well, that’s good to hear.  Have your other, uh, engagements been worse?”

“Oh.”  Keith clears his throat.  “Uh, actually, I haven’t really… done that before.  You were kind of my first.”  A brief pause.  “Time.  First time for—this was my first job.”

Shiro focuses very intently on the road, refusing to let his mind wander.

“I see.  Do you have any others set up?”

Keith glances over, watching Shiro out of the corner of his eye.  “Why?  Think you’re gonna need to hire me again?”

Oh, that hadn’t even occurred to Shiro.  But it’s brilliant, really, and so much easier than asking Keith out.

“Yeah,” Shiro says easily.  “I think I might.”

—

This, Shiro thinks with satisfaction, was the best idea ever.

The office parties at Iverson & Kinkade, LLC, have been agonizing for the past year.  Honestly, you have a little too much eggnog and make out with a partner’s son under the mistletoe _one time_ and it seems like the entire office is trying to set you up.

Or, at least, Nadia Rizavi is, and when it comes to matchmaking, she’s basically an entire office all by herself.

Not that Ryan Kinkade isn’t a great guy, or devastatingly good-looking, but once they were sober, they’d both established that they were not interested in dating each other.

Besides, it’s painful enough being around James Griffin’s embarrassingly obvious crush on Ryan under the best of circumstances.  Shiro can’t imagine how agonizing it would be if Shiro and Ryan actually _were_ dating.

And so when Shiro steps into the party with Keith on his arm, when he spots the expression of relief on Ryan and James’s faces and the interest on Nadia’s, he congratulated himself on his cleverness.

“I’ve never dated a lawyer before,” Keith jokes, glancing around with obvious admiration.  “Human rights, you said?  These must be some pretty impressive people.”

“Oh, absolutely.”  Rosa Kinkade’s house is beautiful, of course, and Shiro finds himself secretly hoping that Keith is taking stock of the perks to dating—and marrying—a lawyer.  “Let me introduce you?”

Keith wraps around Shiro’s arm.  “Of course.  Make sure we talk a lot with—Nadia, you said her name was?”

Shiro nods, beginning the rounds.

Rosa Kinkade doesn’t hide her opinion: Keith, in his dashing black button down and cheeky red tie, impresses her.  She nods her approval at Shiro.  Mitch Iverson seems to suspect that something is up—probably because, as Shiro’s mentor, he’s gotten enough close-ups of Shiro’s love life to know that nothing is ever that simple for him.

By the time they’re chatting with Ryan, discussing his latest movie, Shiro can almost forget that Keith is his paid date.  Their conversation flows so smoothly, Keith’s shoulders so warm underneath Shiro’s arm.

“That’s so cool,” Keith marvels.  “I remember watching that cartoon with my dad as a kid.  “To see it getting a live action now is surreal.  And hearing you talk about it, that you really get what it should be about, makes me feel so much better about that.”

Ryan chuckles softly.  “Trust me, I’m familiar with the curses of live actions.  Not on my watch.”

Keith turns to grin up at Shiro, lifting his hand to thread their fingers together.  “I’m so glad you brought me, Takashi.  Your friends are so cool.”

“Oh my gosh.”

Shiro turns at the whispered exclamation behind them.  To his eternal satisfaction, Nadia is standing there with her hands on her cheeks.

“You two are so _cute_ together!” she exclaims.  “Your name is Keith, right?  Wow, it’s about time Shiro got a boyf—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Shiro interrupts, deciding that it’s probably really not worth it to talk a lot with her.  “I gave you permission to meet him, not give him the third degree.”

“But I haven’t even—”

“But you were going to.”

She only pouts at him, proving his point, and he goes to step around her, pulling Keith along with him.

“Not so fast!”

He and Keith both turn, and Shiro imagines that the look of trepidation on Keith’s face matches the one on Shiro’s own.

But Nadia only points upward.

Their eyes follow in unison, landing on the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe.

Shiro sneaks a look at Keith, who is already watching him back, the faint hint of a shy smile on his face.

“Tradition is tradition,” he says solemnly.

“I suppose it is,” Shiro murmurs, then leans down, catching Keith’s in his.

—

It’s the eggnog, Shiro tells himself firmly, that has him so giddy.  Not the overwhelming approval of Keith by everyone at the party.  Not the way Keith had draped over Shiro after having a few drinks of his own.  Not Keith’s suggestion that they sell the charade by staging a repeat of last year, which resulted in the two of them finding a corner and sharing a few long, thorough kisses.  Maybe more than a few.  Several.  A lot.

Definitely just the eggnog.

“Man,” Keith murmurs, feet propped up on Shiro’s dashboard as they head home.  “Do you think Ryan is gonna survive?  Now that he’s ‘lost you’ and everything.”

Shiro glares the best he can from the corner of his eye.  “I told you, there’s nothing between Ryan and me!”

“Yeah, well.”  Keith just grins, staring straight ahead.  “Nadia seemed pretty worried…”

“She won’t be anymore.  At least, not in any way that’s _my_ problem.”

This time, Keith _does_ turn to Shiro, apparently concerned at his innocent tone.  “What did you _do?_ ”

Shiro shrugs.  “Oh, I just suggested that she set Ryan up under the mistletoe with James.  She’s got her work cut out with those two.”

Keith lets out a delighted laugh.  “You’re shameless!”

Shiro remains utterly unapologetic.  “Maybe a little.  “This is your stop?”

“Oh.”  Is he imagining it, or is there a hint of disappointment in Keith’s voice?  “Yeah, it is.”

Shiro pulls up to the sidewalk, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Keith.  “Thank you for tonight.”

“No problem.”  He reaches out to grip the envelope, but makes no move to pull away.  “I had fun.”

Shiro doesn’t pull away, instead turning to watch Keith.  “Me too.”

And god, Shiro wants to lean over and kiss him, wants to pull him close and invite him home…

But Keith is off the clock now.  And Shiro doesn’t want to ruin what they have.

He lets go of the envelope.

“Good night,” he murmurs.

Keith tucks the envelope into his jacket and withdraws, expression unreadable.

“Good night.”

The passenger door closes, and Shiro watches Keith until he disappears into the apartment complex.

—

“I’m telling you, this guy _likes_ you.”

Keith has given up trying to reclaim his phone and is just glaring as Lance swipes through the photos from the winter party.

“He’s a client.  That’s it.  He pays me to be his fake boyfriend.”

Lance turns the phone to reveal a picture of Shiro watching Keith with a besotted expression.  “I think he wants to be your real boyfriend.”

Keith finally manages to snatch the phone book, and he glares.  “We took that to look more convincing as a couple.  That’s all.”

He tries not to think about how strong and warm Shiro’s arm had felt around him, or the way he can still taste Shiro on his lips, two days later.

Guys like Shiro don’t date guys like Keith.  Not for real.

“All right, sure,” Lotor drawls.  “So you won’t mind if Lance and I pick him up for some fun next time he drops you off?  We can find out if he cries when he comes.”

Keith’s head snaps up, and he glares at Lotor, an unexpected rage sparking through him.  “Don’t talk about Shiro like that!”

Lotor only smirks.  “That’s what I thought.”

They don’t fucking understand.  No one does.

Shiro might.

He stands and storms back to his room.

—

“Takashi.”

Shiro ignores the anguished tone in Adam’s voice as he counts out bills.

“Takashi, listen to me.  I’m serious.  As the only reasonable person in this friendship, I am telling you to _stop._ ”

Shiro sighs, finally setting the stack of bills down.  “I don’t see why.  I’ve got money to spend on things I want.  I’m eating food.  I’m paying rent.  Why shouldn’t I help him out?”

“Wh—you can’t keep paying him a hundred bucks a pop to be your date!”

Shiro frowns at the stacks of five twenties: one for Hanukkah, one for Christmas, one for New Year’s, one for Valentine’s Day, one for his birthday.

“You think I should be paying him more?”

Adam sputters.  “What?   _No!_  You shouldn’t be paying him at all!”

“Well, I can’t expect him to work for free.”

“It’s called _asking him out._ ”

The thought catches in Shiro’s chest and leaves it difficult to breathe.  Ask Keith out.   _Fuck._  The prospect of rejection has never been more terrifying.

“He might feel pressured to say yes just because I’m paying him.  Better I just keep supporting him.  He needs the money.”

“You’re gonna run out of events eventually.”  When Shiro only hums noncommittally, he continues, “You’re uninvited to Hanukkah.  Are you even listening to me?”

That still leaves the next couple of weeks without seeing Keith.  Unless…

He looks up.  “Hey, I need you to meet me at that steakhouse we like.  Next weekend.”

Adam squints at him.  “Why?”

“Well, I told him that I might need his help to make my ex jealous.  And next weekend is a nice midway point between now and—well, whatever’s next.”

Adam just stares.  Shiro continues.

“If you could play it up, that would be great.  Maybe get all offended that I’ve moved in on something.”  Still no response from Adam.  Shiro taps his lower lip thoughtfully.  “And maybe say something about how breaking up with me was the worst decision of your life.  You remember that scene from Legally Blonde?”

“What—no!  No _way!_  Oh my god, just ask him out like a normal person!  I can’t keep enabling this!”

Shiro pouts for a moment, taking in Adam’s exasperated expression.

“So you finally asked Sendak out, then?” Shiro asks lightly.  Adam stiffens.

“Are you seriously pulling out the guilt trip card here?” he grits.

“I’m just saying, given your unorthodox get-together, I’d think you’d have more sympathy for—”

“Guilting me won’t work forever, you know.”

Shiro shrugs.  “But is it working now?”

Adam glares.  Shiro stands his ground.

And then, Adam’s shoulders sag, just like Shiro had known they would.

“Fine.”


End file.
